


Ghost Echoes

by yuletide_archivist



Category: The Windrose Chronicles - Barbara Hambly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-23
Updated: 2004-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An investigation into a series of misfortunes at a local village sets the stage for an unexpected encounter between Kyra and Rosamund.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hoyden

 

 

Summers in the Sykerst were a breathtaking affair: crisp, blue skies; warm, but not too hot days; flowers and grasses stretching as far as the eye could see. But if studying wizardry had taught Kyra anything, it was that everything had a price. For instance, Sykerst winters. Kyra gazed in frustration at the seemingly endless expanse of snow before her. The wind whipped around her, sliding cold fingers along the back of her neck despite the warming charms she had placed on her clothing. She cursed the bitter cold, cursed her fool desire to move to the unwelcoming place, cursed the woman in front of her for her aristocratic grace while Kyra stumbled around in the snow, and most of all she cursed the tall man in front of her who was responsible for her having to suffer the elements in the first place.

Upon reflection, Kyra admitted that of the three of them, the journey must be the hardest on Gannon Hardwick. Although Rosamund had charmed his clothing as well, the spell was less effective when cast for someone else. He had arrived at the Citadel two days ago, shaking with the cold, frostbite marking his nose. One of the novices raced off to find the steward, Bentick, while Kyra sat the stranger down in front of the fire and helped him strip off his ice-encrusted outer wear. She reached for the man's hands, reasoning that they would be frostbitten as well, but he flinched and pulled them into his lap.

"Fool," she snapped, "if you think wizards are dangerous, you shouldn't have come to a citadel full of them. I was just going to warm your hands."

The man blushed and looked down at his lap. He slowly raised his hands for Kyra's inspection.

"Sorry, milady," he said. "Never seen a wizard before. Guess I'm just a bit jumpy."

"I'm not about to bring the witchfinders down on my head just for the pleasure of turning you into a toad." Kyra exhaled and softened her demeanor. Snapping at innocents was hardly the way to convince of the harmlessness of wizards. If nothing else, it would earn her another lecture from Lady Rosamund on the merits of diplomacy.

"I'm sorry, goodman, I shouldn't have been so sharp with you. Now let's see what we can do about those hands." Turning to one of the young men feigning nonchalance in the doorway, she called out "Cavin, fetch some hand cream. And don't the rest of you have studies to be attending to?" Cavin tore off up the stairs while the other novices guiltily dispersed.

Kyra turned back to their visitor and began massaging his hands, careful not to use too much force. It seemed the warming process was still painful, as she saw the muscles around his eyes tighten and his face pale. He pursed his lips together, but said nothing other than a soft "Thank you, milady."

His dress and accent indicated that he was from a neighboring village, neighboring of course being relative in an area where the nearest settlement was two days off. While not of particularly fine material, his clothes were well made and tailored to fit, leading Kyra to believe he was a merchant or alderman in his town. He had the slight hunch common to the very tall. As someone who had to fight the urge to camouflage her own height, Kyra sympathized.

Kyra could feel some warmth returning to the man's hands, and decided enough time had elapsed that she could ask him about his purpose in visiting without being too rude. Unfortunately, Bentick chose that moment to swoop in. He gathered up the visitor, with a glance informed Kyra that she was not to follow, and herded the man away, presumably to speak to the Council.

Kyra still had no idea what he had discussed with the Council or why she and Rosamund had been chosen to accompany Hardwick back to his village, but they had headed out the next morning on snowshoes. Kyra was cold and miserable and tired, and hoped that whatever awaited them upon their arrival the next day at Littledown was worth the effort.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She might never be warm again, but at least Kyra's stomach was full. The townspeople had welcomed them on arrival, insisting on lavishing their unprotesting guests with food. Although they seemed friendly enough, Kyra could sense an underlying anxiety, more than the typical unease around wizards. She remained clueless as to the purpose of their visit, which she reasoned was tied into the villagers' nervousness. Even if their traveling conditions had been conducive to conversation, Rosamund had seemed in no mood to talk, and Hardwick avoided her, perhaps unwilling to face her temper and sharp tongue. But now that the meal was over, and she and her mentor had retired for the night, she promised herself that she would insist on some explanation from the older wizard.

Rosamund had sat down on a chair near a wobbly vanity and was reaching up to unfasten her hair from its bun. Kyra snagged the other woman's brush before Rosamund could reach it and began brushing her hair. Rosamund startled at the touch, but didn't push Kyra away.

"There's no need. I am capable of brushing my own hair."

"I know," Kyra responded. "I don't mind. I used to brush my sister's hair. I find it soothing."

Rosamund didn't respond, but relaxed slightly, giving Kyra tacit permission to continue. For a few moments, the women stayed silent, Kyra enjoying the repetitive comfort of the brush strokes and the soft feel of the black hair sliding between her fingers. She frowned at the gray hairs that had been steadily overtaking the black over the past year and a half. Rosamund had been grief-stricken by the death of her own teacher, the Archmage Min, and the time since then she had spent as acting head of the Wizards' Council. Without the authority of the Master Spells that would give her power over the other wizards, Rosamund's new title was symbolic only. Her chief rival, Daurannon, had spared no effort in undermining her authority at every opportunity. Kyra frequently had to restrain herself from slapping his smug smile off of his face whenever he made one of his petty power plays. She felt protective of the woman who had been her support and anchor when she had been disowned by her father. That Rosamund was finally showing the effects of age and stress saddened her.

To take her mind off her maudlin thoughts, Kyra decided to tackle her original question.

"Why are we here?" Well, subtlety had never been her strong suit. Apparently Rosamund agreed as she chuckled.

"I wondered how long it would take you to ask that." She pulled her hair out of Kyra's hands and turned to face her.

"I think I've been very patient," Kyra replied. "Now, would you please enlighten me?" Aware that she towered over Rosamund while she was sitting, she took a seat on the bed and crossed her legs under her.

"There was an avalanche nearby in which several of the townspeople perished. Now the villagers think they're being haunted."

"Is that possible? I thought only wizards were able to manifest themselves as spirits." Kyra shuddered as she remembered how close she had come the past spring to losing her sister to a dead wizard's curse.

"Objects and rooms have been known to retain impressions of violence. Someone sensitive to psychic imprints could receive feelings, even images of the violent act. The more the object is exposed to such violence, the greater the effect."

Kyra nodded. She knew all this from her studies. Rosamund frowned and continued.

"If Gannon Hardwick is to be believed, what they're seeing here can't be explained by solely by the deaths of these people, no matter how tragic. Twenty people have fallen sick with an illness they don't recognize."

Kyra raised an eyebrow which Rosamund echoed.

"Yes, I realize that in and of itself that indicates nothing other than a harsh winter and bad luck. But those two things don't account for the death of half the livestock on the side of the town closest to the accident site. Nor for the string of misfortunes: walls that have stood for decades suddenly collapsing, securely stored grain supplies being infested by mice, or carefully tanned hides going bad."

Kyra's mind ticked off the possibilities. She leaned forward in her enthusiasm to tackle the problem.

"Could those things be unrelated to the avalanche, a wizard's curse perhaps? Or could one of the dead people have had magic ability?"

Rosamund shook her head.

"Unlikely on both accounts. How could someone attain so much power or training without us knowing about him? And I haven't sensed any wizard's marks in the parts of the village we passed through, have you?"

Kyra had to concede the point to Rosamund, but was still curious. "But what could it be? Have you sensed anything?"

Rosamund furrowed her brow and gazed past Kyra, looking at nothing in particular. "I have felt chaos and fear, but not evil. This doesn't seem to be controlled wizardry."

Kyra closed her eyes and allowed her magic to extend her senses out into the area around the house in which they were staying. Off in the distance she could hear a noise, like a thousand screaming voices heard from far away. She could feel the terror and panic whipping about in a formless cloud. She opened her eyes to see Rosamund doing the same.

"You can feel it?" the other woman asked, and Kyra nodded, hugging her arms around herself to shake the chill the apparition brought on. Rosamund sighed. "It's getting stronger, I fear. We must be quick about our work tomorrow. Now sleep, Kyra. I think we will both need all our strength."

Kyra had more questions, but Rosamund had already turned away and begun readying herself for bed. The regal tone of Rosamund's last command told her she would get no more answers from her this evening.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With the aura of death overwhelming her wizardly senses, Kyra barely noticed the cold and snow that surrounded her at the base of the avalanche. The source of the disturbance she felt last night was nearby, demanding her attention. She attempted to close her mind of to the pounding cacophony, but was still left with a nagging headache. She could tell by the way Rosamund periodically rubbed her forehead that the other wizard was experiencing a similar problem.

Rosamund cast wary glances in her direction every now and again. Kyra's clumsiness was legendary around the Citadel. With the snow still unstable, now was not the time for her to be stumbling around. Rosamund's concern made Kyra self-conscious. She watched the placement of her feet carefully, then worried that she would trip herself up in her own concern. Fortunately she was spared further worry when Rosamund walked over and grabbed her hand to get her attention. She leaned over and whispered in Kyra's ear.

"I think I've located the source. There appears to be a cave behind the snow face. I'll need you to stabilize the snow for me while I carve a tunnel through it."

She took hold of Kyra's arm and gently led her to the spot she indicated, helping the younger woman maintain her balance without being obvious about it. Not for the first time, Kyra envied Rosamund's grace and polish. She had to admit she needed the help as she tripped a couple of times, only to be held up by Rosamund.

Once there, Kyra drew a circle around herself and began drawing sigils of strength inside of it. She had never worked with snow before and hoped the incantations and signs she knew would be sufficient. Rosamund looked critically at what she had drawn and made a couple of quick corrections. She then turned and began her own chants, power flowing from her hands into the snow.

Kyra wanted to watch Rosamund at work, but was forced to focus her attentions on her own task. Her muscles trembled with the effort of keeping the snow from collapsing the tunnel Rosamund was painstakingly creating. Struck by an idea, she reached out with her power to brush the snow away from the top of the tunnel so she would have less to balance. This resulted in a mini-flurry swirling around the two women, but did succeed in lessening her load. She stopped as she sensed the snow above them shifting ominously.

She was starting to bore of standing there when Rosamund waved to her. A quick chant later, and Kyra had left her wards to support the snow on their own. She frowned looking up at it, trying to figure out how long they had until the whole thing collapsed.

"We only have an hour or two," she warned Rosamund.

"Then we'd best be quick about our business," was her only reply.

The two headed into the small, narrow snow tunnel. With each step, Kyra could feel an increasingly tangible resistance to their forward progress. Following Rosamund's example, she did her best to shrug off the illusion and keep moving. The twenty yards to the cave felt like twenty miles, but at last they pushed through.

Kyra felt as if she were in the middle of a battle or on board a sinking ship. The screams that she had sensed from the village were now boring into her ears. She was caught up in the fear and the chaos. She clapped her hands to her ears and fell to her knees. She looked up as she felt someone pull on her wrists. She looked up to see Rosamund, who was pale but otherwise seemed unaffected. Rosamund used her thumb to wipe away tears Kyra didn't even know she had shed. Somehow Rosamund's touch eased some of Kyra's fear and she managed a shaky grin before stumbling to her feet.

While the atmosphere around her was still distracting, Kyra could at least now spare some attention to examining the cave they were in. Towards the rear was a stone slab, whether decorative or meant to be some sort of altar-piece she couldn't tell. More interestingly, she could see wizards marks all over the walls. She ran her fingers over them. They had been set a long time ago, but were still amazingly potent. They had to have been the marks of a very powerful wizard. She saw Rosamund standing near the slab and moved over to join her. The surface of the stone was covered with sigils of a complexity that Kyra hadn't seen before. Rosamund was tracing them with her finger, her lips moving slightly as she puzzled over them. Kyra tried to use her taller body to shield the other woman, realizing while she did so the futility of the gesture against a psychic force.

Rosamund turned and spoke to Kyra, but whether the noise around her was real or in her head, Kyra still couldn't hear anything she was trying to say. Rosamund grimaced in frustration, one of few times she let an unattractive expression cross her face. She took Kyra's hand and led her to the center of the cave. Kyra's skin was crawling and she almost succumbed to panic again. A glance at Rosamund stiffened her spine as she strove to emulate her teacher's calm. However, she had no idea how long she could maintain this calm against the battering wails that grew ever stronger.

Rosamund swiftly drew up wards around them, shielding them from at least some of the furor. Kyra was shocked to see Rosamund's hands shaking, although she had to clench her own in her pockets to keep them still.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, inadvertently letting some of her fear slip into her voice. Rosamund squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"We need to perform a cleansing spell to counteract the effects of the old magic here. The walls are covered in sigils designed to echo a wizard's magic back to him and enhance his strength. Such spells are rarely stable, however, and I expect the power rebounded on its caster and destroyed him. Had he been able to gather the strength he desired, I'm sure we would have heard of him." She smiled wryly then continued. "When the villagers died in the avalanche nearby, their suffering and fear was given life by the magic in the cave. The traces of their agony bounced and multiplied to become a potent force. With each death or misfortune, the effect is only magnified. It will take some complex work to undo what has been done here. Follow my example. I'll perform the spells, but I'll need your strength to cast them." She cupped Kyra's cheek in her hand. "I have faith in you. I know you can do this."

With no further ado, Rosamund dropped her hand and went to work. She sketched a circle around the two of them. Pulling some dried herbs out of her pockets, she scattered them to the corners marking the four winds and chanted over them. With her index finger she drew signs in the air that were visible to Kyra's wizard sight as glowing, writhing hieroglyphs. Kyra clasped her hands in front of her and focused on entering a trance. She summoned her magic up, but kept it bottled up in her body, humming in her veins until it was needed.

Rosamund dropped the shield around them, presumably to conserve energy. With nothing to shelter her mind, Kyra had to work harder to maintain her concentration. However, the last thing she wanted was to fail Rosamund. She used the other woman as her focus to still her thoughts. She could feel the magics wielded by Rosamund in her efforts to stem the fury around them, but couldn't imagine the two of them alone could defeat the power she could feel in the cave. Nevertheless, when she felt Rosamund pulling on her magic, she freely offered her power to the older wizard.

To Kyra's amazement, Rosamund's spells seemed to be having an effect. The tortured cries started to fade away, and the aimless fear that had caused her heart to beat so fast ebbed. She started to relax, confident that they were going to triumph. She could see Rosamund unbending a little as well, although she kept as much power flowing to her spells. With clear progress being made, neither woman expected what happened next.

With a physical slap, a wave of power bowled into the two women. Kyra would have fallen outside the circle had Rosamund not grabbed her and pulled Kyra against her. Even within the protection of their wards, Kyra could feel her hair standing on end and a prickling sensation on her skin. Looking down at her arms, she could see blisters breaking out. Her nerve endings sang with pain, but whether it was physical or an illusion fostered by the magic echoing around them, she couldn't tell. Rosamund started to falter, and their balance shifted so that Kyra was now supporting the other woman. She held Rosamund tightly against her as if she could transfer power through her skin. She looked down into Rosamund's eyes, for the first time seeing panic in her face. The sigils around them began to waver and fade.

"No," Kyra cried, her scream not even reaching as far as the woman not two inches away from her. Desperate and working on instinct she wrapped her arms fully around Rosamund and tilted down to kiss her on the lips. Warmth surged through Kyra's body. She felt Rosamund's lips begin to respond to her own. Kyra threw everything of herself into the link. For one glorious moment she was Rosamund. She could feel the magic flowing through her, channeled into the spells and sigils. She could understand the complex magic that went far beyond her studies. She couldn't feel her own body, only the will that went out to counteract the forces in the cave. One final burst of energy went out from the two to combat the chaos. A fierce wind swirled around them and Kyra could feel a sucking force trying to pull them in. The voices coalesced into one pinpoint of space, then imploded. Everything went quiet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kyra's ears were ringing in the silence that followed the battle, if it could be called that. After the chaos they had just suffered through, it took her a few minutes to readjust to relative silence. She could feel the off-kilter beats of her and Rosamund's hearts where they still pressed together. She heard a rumbling in the distance and tensed, expecting another attack. To her simultaneous relief and dismay, she realized it was the sound of their snow tunnel collapsing. She turned to run over to the now blocked cave entrance, but fell to the ground when her legs gave out her beneath her. Without Kyra's support, Rosamund could no longer stay standing, and she too slid to the ground.

Rosamund raised her head wearily, looked where the entrance used to be, and sighed.

"We should have enough air to last us for a few hours," she said. "We need to gather some of our strength before we can get ourselves out. I for one couldn't lift a cup of tea at this point, although I wouldn't mind the opportunity to try." She smiled listlessly at her own joke.

Kyra shivered, now starting to feel the cold seeping through her cloak and robes. She scooted closer to Rosamund, who stiffened when Kyra settled next to her. Kyra pulled back a little in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I just thought we should share our warmth. I'm getting cold, and I thought you must be, too."

"Yes, of course. A very sensible idea." Rosamund words were polite, but distant in a way she had never been with Kyra before. Kyra furrowed her brow in puzzlement before realization dawned.

"You're upset because I kissed you."

"I'm sure it was just an impulsive action in the heat of the moment. There's nothing to be upset about." Kyra wondered if she was receiving the benefit of Rosamund's childhood tutoring on how to let a suitor down gracefully. She couldn't believe that Rosamund would be defaulting to her aristocratic manners if the moment hadn't affected her at all. This hope gave her the strength to continue.

"It was more than just that," Kyra told her. "I've wanted to kiss you for a while."

"Oh really?" Rosamund cocked an eyebrow. "And what about your young man?"

Kyra blushed -- or rather blotched, as she'd never mastered the art of blushing gracefully -- at the reminder of her lover, Blore Spenson, whom, now that she thought of it, Rosamund had never referred to by name. She had spent countless sleepless nights lying awake in bed asking herself the same question ever since she gradually became aware of the depths of her feelings for Rosamund. She knew what she felt, but struggled to put her conclusions into words.

"I love Spens." That probably wasn't the best way to start as Rosamund gave a small smile as if she had been proven right about something, and withdrew even further into herself. Kyra grabbed the older woman's arm.

"Wait, hear me out. I'm not finished yet. I love Spens. He taught me how to open my heart. But when I looked inside of it, I realized you had been there all along."

"That's only natural." Rosamund's tone had only a breath of condenscension in it, but it was enough to set Kyra's teeth on edge. "I loved my teacher as well. We're a small community, and we often become close to certain other individuals."

"Did you ever want to bed Aunt Min?" Rosamund may have possessed abundant decorum and tact, but Kyra never laid claim to any. In any case, she was annoyed enough with Rosamund to try and provoke her. It seemed to have worked, as Rosamund widened her eyes in shock and, if possible, straightened her spine even further. Changing tacks, Kyra went on.

"Perhaps it's selfish of me to think I can have everything I want, but I couldn't give up either of you any more than I could cease to be a wizard. You're as much a part of me as Spenson is. I love you both. In different ways, for different things, but just as much. You understand and touch parts of me that Spens never could. Losing you would break my heart."

Rosamund stayed silent and Kyra worried that she had mortally offended the other woman, until she spoke.

"I'm flattered, Kyra. And I can't deny that I have the deepest of affection for you, but this isn't appropriate. You have your lover, and that's the way it should be. Please don't mistake our friendship and affection for something it's not."

"Do you think I'm some lovesick child? Do you think I haven't examined this, turned my feelings every which way round to figure out what they are?" Kyra's dander was up now and she couldn't stop her words even if she wanted to. "I love you. Don't give me excuses and platitudes. If you don't feel the same, then just say so!"

"Kyra." Rosamund's voice tapered off, and she looked at the ground, away from Kyra. She waited expectantly for Rosamund to finish her sentence, but the woman fell silent. After a few minutes, Kyra snuggled up to her and laid her head on Rosamund's shoulder. Although Rosamund didn't put her arm around her as Kyra had hoped, at least she didn't flinch or push her away.

An hour or so later, Kyra was startled out of the cat nap she had fallen into by Rosamund's deep sigh. Rosamund gently lifted Kyra's head off her lap where it had fallen and stood up.

"I think I'm ready to tackle the snow. How about you?" Kyra was disappointed by Rosamund's businesslike tones. Preparing herself to put aside everything she had so recently confessed, she stretched and moved to stand up.

"Aren't you coming?" Rosamund chided her.

Kyra looked up and was amazed at the expression in Rosamund's face: affection, joy, and perhaps something more. Rosamund's hand was stretched out to her and she reached forward to take it. She echoed Rosamund's smile when she heard her next words.

"I need you with me."

the Enb

 


End file.
